Highland Promise Read Online Free PDF Page A

expression. She had a feeling that she should have worded her request more carefully, that the man had not promised what she had wanted him to. She stared ahead of them and tried not to feel anything as he held her close in his arms.
    It was going to be a struggle to ignore his allure, she realized. Something deep inside of her responded hotly and immediately to his touch, his smile, even his voice, and she suspected it was a very heedless part of her. Sir Eric Murray might have arrived just in time to save her and might well keep his promise to get her and James safely toDunnbea, but Bethia began to think that was all he had and would promise. She could not change her mind now, she thought as she looked down at a dozing James, but she began to think she had just traded a deadly danger for a far more subtle one.

Chapter Three
    “Sit, lass,” Eric ordered in a soft voice as he urged her toward the fire he had just built. “Tend to the wee lad and I will do all the rest.”
    “I should help,” Bethia murmured even as she sat down.
    “Ye are. I can tend the horse, make camp, and prepare us a poor but hearty meal. I cannae tend to a bairn.”
    She nodded as he set her bag down next to her. Exhaustion weighted her movements as she spread out the changing rags she had washed earlier in the day, hoping they would finish drying by the fire. Bethia did not understand the deep weariness that had infected her. She had not been walking all that long before Sir Eric had found her, barely two nights and most of two days. Then she had enjoyed the ease of riding for the rest of the day yet she felt as if she had not slept for weeks. As she changed James’s rags and spread out his bedding, she tried to shrug off her weariness, at least enough so that she could stay awake through the meal and ask Sir Eric Murray a few hard questions.
    What troubled her the most was how she seemed to have relaxed the moment she had accepted Sir Eric’s kind offer of aid. It was shortly after she had climbed up on his horse that her deep weariness had begun to creep over her, swamping the rigid wariness she had maintained since her arrival at Dunncraig. Sir Eric had wrapped those slim, strong arms around her and she had ceased to fight. Since she did not really know the man, Bethia felt that was dangerous. His beauty and his deep, rich voice might make her innards flutter, but she could not allow that mindless warmth to burn away all of her good sense and caution. If it was only her own life at risk, Bethia knew she would allow herself to be lulled by his beauty and apparent kindness, but she could never forget that there was James to consider in all she did.
    As Eric sat down by the fire and began to prepare some porridge, he caught Bethia covertly eyeing him and inwardly sighed. She had been quiet, weariness stilling her suspicions, but she had obviously shaken some of that exhaustion aside. There would be questions now, ones he would have to answer cautiously. He knew he had every right to go after his inheritance just as he knew she would treat such a quest with suspicion. It was not fair, but it was completely understandable. Eric found it easy enough to set aside any sense of insult over her wariness. He hoped he could set aside any dangerous questions she might ask with as much ease.
    He needed to win her trust before he told her the whole truth. Saving her from those thieves was not really enough. Somehow he had to make her believe he was not an enemy and never would be. Even then he knew the truth could seriously damage his cause, but if she discovered the truth now, he would probably have to make her a prisoner to keep her with him.
    In the hope of diverting the questions he could sense were trembling on her tongue, he asked, “Are ye certain the mon William is a murderer?” He dished her out some of the thick oatmeal into a rough wooden bowl.
    Bethia frowned as she accepted the food. “I am verra sure, Sir Eric.” She blew gently on a